


Do Cats Eat Jokes

by Ornelasse



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Joker (2019)
Genre: Bud and Lou are cats, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Heartwarming, Humor, Protective Selina Kyle, Young Selina Kyle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:40:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22378867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ornelasse/pseuds/Ornelasse
Summary: It's been a couple of years since Dr. Quinzel broke Arthur Fleck out of Arkham Asylum, and he's having a bat problem. So Harley decides to put a smile on his face by visiting a cat shelter run by Selina Kyle...
Relationships: Arthur Fleck/Harleen Quinzel, Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	Do Cats Eat Jokes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the awesome sweet-tragicomedy on Tumblr who's being a great inspiration for me and my Joker writing <3 Takes place in the 'verse of my multi-chapter work "Smiley Faces", but can be read standalone. 
> 
> Arthur imagining he has a cat (and wholeheartedly caring for him throughout all the movie) was in the original script.

“Absolutely not,” Selina Kyle said, and Harleen stared at her incredulously. 

The infamous Miss Kyle was a tall, athletic girl of maybe 19. She was all clad in black, from her tank top down to her heavy combat boots, and had a general flair about her that screamed _The Cure, Bauhaus_ and that latest _Sandman_ comic. In fact, Harleen reckoned, that was just the intention. The only difference between her and Death of the Endless (apart from Miss Kyle being pretty much real and alive, of course, and not nearly as pasty) was that while the comic book character wore a giant ankh as a pendant, Selina Kyle opted for an image of Bastet instead.

“Excuse me, let me hear it again,” Harleen tried. “You run a cat shelter. You have to steal to run a cat shelter. You, actually, have to steal _that much_ to run the cat shelter that you popped up on Mr. J’s radar. Yet, when I come to you and I want to adopt a cat…”

“Which part of “absolutely not” did you not understand, Miss Quinzel? Or I’m sorry, is it Mrs. Fleck these days?” Selina scoffed. “Look, I’m very grateful for the… protection, or should I actually say franchise, and Joker and you aren’t really that bad, I mean, like yeah, you’re scary as fuck but not _douches_. But _no,_ it’s absolutely no way in Hell you’re having one of my babies.”

“It’s Miss Quinzel. And, yeah, so I’ve heard it right for the first time. But… seriously, why?”

“Do I really have to explain then?” Selina rolled her eyes. “For God’s sake, lady, you’re squatting a _funhouse!”_

“It’s an amusement park, thank you very much! And I take pride in the work I put in it, actually,” Harleen retorted. 

“Whatever. It’s not a healthy environment for cats. Besides, what if you end up in Arkham? Not one at a time, but both?”

“We could hire a cat sitter.”

“No way. No way in Hell. Listen,” the girl sighed, “why wanting to give a cat to _Joker_ of all people?” 

“Well...” Harley stuttered. She’d normally never give away anything that Mr. J told her, but this was not exactly a top secret story, and she felt Selina could be trusted. “Let’s just say… Mr. J used to have a cat, once. At least, he used to think so. You know how he can be.”

“Uh-huh,” Selina said. _Everyone_ knew how Joker could be when Harley was not enough (or wasn’t there) to manage the delusions he suffered. Well, _technically_ suffered - practically, he more of reveled in them, while the suffering befell on anyone who wouldn’t fit in the script. 

“He’s good with animals, you know, and even as he went for the Murray Franklin show, he didn’t forget to let the cat out…”

“You mean, the imaginary cat,” Selina cut in, and regretted that immedially. Harley shot her a glare of daggers. 

“Whatever. I’m saying, he likes cats, and we can take care of a cat, and if we aren’t there, we find a person to take care of the cat, and if that person doesn’t care of the cat well enough, we shoot their kneecaps, which clause shall be vocally expressed beforehand to ensure due diligence and avoid any misunderstanding on their part. Are you going to show me the cats or not?”

“Now,” Selina said, “I am not giving you any kittens. They are extremely vulnerable, and I doubt either of you has time or skills to raise them properly. I’m also not giving you anyone who has a chance of being adopted elsewhere. Do you read me?”

“Yup,” Harley said, happy enough that Selina would let her into her inviolable sanctuary - the Cat Room. She had to take off her motorcycle boots and to wash her hands before she was admitted to a room lined with cat trees, cat houses and cat toys of all sizes and colours, with about 20 cats strolling around, or dozing, or eating - to cut a long story short, minding their very important cat business. Another door could be seen across the room, but when Selina spotted Harley looking at it, she interfered immediately:

“Don’t you even think of going there. It’s the infirmary. What? I’m not exactly in position to go to a regular vet, and mobsters don’t usually do that. There’s that guy that visits me, but he’s not a clinic, so…”

 _Hire Selina a vet,_ Harley made a mental note. She had a feeling that Mr. J wouldn’t object.

“Now,” Selina said, “lo and behold Bud and Lou. They’re a package deal,” she added, “and no refunds.”

Bud and Lou turned up to be two sturdy tomcats, a ginger and a tabby, who’d surely seen their fair share of street fights and obviously weren’t likely to accept new company. Other cats preferred to circle them, leaving half the room to the pair. Bud, the tabby, had a torn ear, and Lou, the ginger, sported a scar across his face, and, judging from their expressions, they were not exactly sure whether Harley was food or nuisance. 

“They eat bats, y’know,” Selina remarked. 

“That’s… normal for cats, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I’m just saying, they’re far tougher than they look. Actually, they’re pretty psychotic, so if they don’t shred your hands into pieces, consider them up for grabs. They’re terrorizing the others, and I honestly don’t see a chance of finding them any other home.”

“Hmm,” Harley said. “Sounds like just my kind of kitten. There, there, little one...”

And, to Selina’s utter astonishment, she petted Bud and Lou on their heads, and the two cats purred. 

  
  


By the time that Harley drove into Amusement Mile with two cat carriers and various cat-related neccessities (apparently, cats needed much more comfort and management than people did), Joker hadn’t come home yet. So she had Bud and Lou carried upstairs to the former park manager’s office that now served as their private quarters and did her best to stove all the knives and chemicals away. Then she let the pair out and gave them food and water. She expected them to be stressed, but obviously, the two had seen things far worse than a red and purple room littered by books, records and circus props. Upon sating their hunger, the cats jumped onto the bеd, curled next to each other and drifted off to sleep. Harley considered joining them - moreover, she’d gone to Selina’s incognito, in no makeup, so she didn’t even have to waste time at the vanity removing her clown face. So she stretched out on the purple covers next to her new pets and closed her eyes.

Their peaceful slumber was soon interrupted by the crash of door smashing into the wall. Without a word, Joker strolled into the room, lighting a cigarette with trembling hands as he walked, and darted down into the chair by the vanity. Harley hated to see him that vexed and irate and ached to ask what was wrong, but she knew that pestering him when he was like that was not the best idea. So she waited.

“That brat,” he uttered through gritted teeth at last. “My self-righteous delusional arrogant _pest_ of a _brother…_ How much longer am I going to do this, Harley? How much longer am I going to be reaching out and trying to make him see the truth about the world? About _us?_ ”

“J…”

“Don’t Jay me now, Harls! I’m serious. And I _hate_ being fucking serious! And… and…” he noticed the cats at last. “ _Harley._ What. Is. That.”

“They’re Bud and Lou,” Harley explained meekly. “You know I’m a cat person. I know you’re a cat person. So while you were gone, I thought why don’t I drop by _the_ cat person, and…”

Joker was silent, his mouth agape, the forgotten cigarette smoking between his fingers.

“ _H_ _arls,_ ” he said hoarsely, “you know what?”

“What?” she asked quietly, looking at his face - and seeing a twitching, shy, sincere smile, that of the long forgotten Arthur Fleck.

“Oh, Harley. You’re the greatest.”


End file.
